Kartik Aaryan has consistently positioned himself in the film industry as an outsider. The actor, whose parents were doctors and who was born in Gwalior, pursued the same long, arduous path to fame that many others like him are compelled to take in a business that depends on flattery, friendships, and luck. Aaryan’s carefully cultivated public image as “one of us” can be credited with a large portion of his success. He is a role model and the real-life personification of the Indian Dream, someone who rose beyond his social standing through grit and determination. So why does his most recent movie, Shehzada, seem to support nepotism?
Shehzada, which is based on the Telugu smash Ala Vaikunthapurramuloo, begins with a scenario so out of control that it is certain to give you narrative whiplash. In it, Paresh Rawal’s career clerk tosses around the idea of giving up his young baby as a gesture of goodwill towards his boss, but changes his mind at the last minute and chooses to effectively abduct his boss’ infant son in exchange. His intention is to deny the child a life of privilege while making sure that his own son—the one he gave up—gets to live a life of luxury that he would not have otherwise had the opportunity to.
Shehzada’s opening scene serves as a direct allegory for what it’s like to be an outsider in the film business. The now-adult youngster that Rawal’s character kidnapped in the opening scene is played by Aaryan. Although Bantu is unaware of it, he serves as the rich Jindals’ “eklauta waaris.” Despite being born apart from them, he went on to study law in Amritsar and is now knocking on the door of a famous business where Samara, played by Kriti Sanon, works. Samara, who is a lawyer by profession, spends the most of the film dancing in opulent settings and being prodded like a farm animal by her father in order to consent to a “rishta.” Raj (Ankur Rathee), the young man who the Jindals expect to be their heir, happens to be the matchmaker. But Raj is actually Rawal’s character’s biological child.
Let’s go back to Bantu. One day when he arrives at the legal office, Samara informs him that he has no chance against the Harvard and Cambridge graduates that they often hire. Merit bina rejection kar diya. Not fair, a discouraged Bantu cries. After a brief pause, Samara calls him into the room and uses two of her actual clients as actors to ‘audition’ for the position. The sequence does a good enough job of conveying what nepotism-prone director Rohit Dhawan has to say about the contentious issue. He appears to be aware of the fact that, for most outsiders, acquiring a job is not as difficult as getting a foot in the door.
Following Sushant Singh Rajput’s passing in 2020, a very niche segment of social media appropriated the word “outsider.” The farce culminated when Taapsee Pannu revealed that she will call her recently established production firm Outsiders Films. Eventually, it entered the mainstream. The Bollywood old guard is represented by the Jindals in Shehzada. Their opulent home is practically in another realm, not just isolated from the outside world. They are disconnected from the common people, who are embodied in the movie by Bantu, their symbol. Bantu, though, isn’t really a stranger, is he? The filmmakers conclude that his motivation to do good should only be determined by genetics, despite the fact that he was raised outside of the privileged ecology. When we initially meet Bantu, he is a layabout who laughs when some thugs threaten his sister. However, as he learns that he has royal blood, he changes into Shah Rukh Khan’s Kal Ho Naa Ho character.
Funny enough, Saif Ali Khan, who starred alongside SRK in that movie, continues to carry the dubious distinction of having spoken the most insensitive things about nepotism. In a 2017 interview with Firstpost, he began somewhat level-headedly, “I am typically viewed as being a very privileged guy and I definitely am,” before taking a dramatic left turn: “It’s easy to confuse nepotism with heredity. Maybe there is something in the genes too that makes many of Raj Kapoor’s descendants actors or Pataudis cricketers. I think it’s actually eugenics and genetics that’s coming into play.” More recently, Raveena Tandon and Zayed Khan have also made similar comments about nepotism. Tandon, herself the daughter of a filmmaker, suggested that ‘filmy kids’ might have ‘art in their bloodstream’, and Khan, also the son of a filmmaker, said that stars have a ‘God-given duty’ to help their kids.
But each of them has a flawed understanding of this case’s central contention. Nepotism isn’t really about how many projects you’re able to land in the context of the film industry, which, let’s be clear, cannot be compared to the areas of commerce or science. It has to do with access; a gifted outsider may never obtain it, but a gifted insider will always do so. Additionally, access is not restricted to a single visit; star kids can return for more. At least in that ‘audition’ scenario, Shehzada seemed to comprehend this. Sure, Zayed Khan and the others can argue that the decision is ultimately made by the audience. Zayed, buddy, haven’t they done that already?
Shehzada’s remark on the matter comes to an end in the film’s penultimate scene after an on-the-nose monologue in which Aaryan literally mentions “nepotism.” The persona of Ronit Roy has discovered that Raj is not his biological son, whereas Bantu is. But because he doesn’t want his wife Yashoda, who is portrayed by Manisha Koirala, to “lose” Raj, Bantu asks his father to keep this information hidden from Yashoda. It is still unclear why Bantu thinks she must expel Raj only because she has a new boy. Does he view Raj as an empty milk bottle that should be dropped outside the door and replaced the next day with a fresh one?
Raj and Yashoda arrive on the scene and embrace Bantu. She sincerely thanks Bantu for everything he has done and tells him that he is as good as a son to her while openly rejecting Raj as a useless waste of space. For a brief moment, it appears as though Shehzada has made a significant point regarding adopted family and the excessive importance placed on blood ties virtually against its better judgement. She then gives the joke, though. After assessing Rawal’s personality, Yashoda gives him a five-year task to change Raj into a Bantu. “Jo saalon ki foreign education Raj ko nahi sikha payi, woh tumne Bantu ko purani Dilli ki galiyon mein sikha di,” she explains to him. Bantu jaisa bana do, Mere Raj ko. Balki apne ghar rakh lo, usse shurat se shura karne do. Or, if you have five rooms, usse clerk se CEO bana do.
Yashoda will choose her own son to run the family business rather than the purported ‘outsider’, despite the fact that actual brilliance is practically right in front of her. Before you can even utter “What?” Dhawan disappears. There’s a lot wrong with the movie — the outdated tone, its absolute disregard for Sanon and her character, and its obliviousness about the optics of mocking a character named Valmiki — and for all its disruptive ambitions, Shehzada appears to have inherited the worst qualities of Bollywood.
source from: msn.com
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